Dead Quotes

#1. Of course he wasn't dead. He could never be dead until she herself had finished feeling and thinking. #Quote by Zora Neale Hurston

#2. Cauldron save me," she began whispering, her voice lovely and even-like music. "Mother hold me," she went on, reciting a prayer similar to one I'd heard once before, when Tamlin eased the passing of that lesser faerie who'd died in the foyer. Another of Amarantha's victims. "Guide me to you." I was unable to raise my dagger, unable to take the step that would close the distance between us. "Let me pass through the gates; let me smell that immortal land of milk and honey."

Silent tears slide down my face and neck, where they dampened the filthy collar of my tunic. As she spoke, I knew I would be forever barred from that immortal land. I knew that whatever Mother she meant would never embrace me. In saving Tamlin, I was to damn myself.

I couldn't do this-couldn't lift that dagger again.

"Let me fear no evil," she breathed, staring at me-into me, into the soul that was cleaving itself apart."Let me feel no pain."

A sob broke from my lips. "I'm sorry," I moaned.

"Let me enter eternity," She breathed.

I wept as I understood. Kill me now, she was saying. Do it fast. Don't make it hurt. Kill me now. Her bronze eyes were steady, if not sorrowful. Infinitely, infinitely worse than the pleading of the dead faerie beside her.

I couldn't do it.

But she held my gaze-held my gaze and nodded.

As I lifted the ash dagger, something inside me fractured so completely that there would be no hope of #Quote by Sarah J. Maas

#3. I was twenty-nine years old. In six months my twenties would be over. A whole decade since living here. One big blank. Not one thing of value had I gotten out of it, not one meaningful thing had I done. Boredom was all there was.
How were things before? Surely there had to have been something positive. Had there been anything that really moved me, anything that really moved anyone? Maybe, but still it was all gone now. Lost, perhaps meant to be lost. Nothing I can do about it, got to let it go.
At least I was still around. If the only good Indian is a dead Indian, it was my fate to go on living.
What for?
To tell tales to a stone wall?
Really, now. #Quote by Haruki Murakami

#4. I miss him so much, but it's confusing, because I missed him long before he was dead, and that's the bitch of it all. I missed him long before he was dead. #Quote by A.S. King

#5. It's always tempting to choose the safer road. The one you think will get you to your destination in one piece. But as you learned today, sometimes the safe roads are nothing but dead ends. And I'll tell you one thing I know for sure. No matter what your destination is, there's no safer road than the one you take with someone you love. #Quote by Cassia Leo

#6. The busy chatter of the heat Shrilled like a parakeet; And shuddering at the noonday light The dust lay dead and white As powder on a mummy's face, Or fawned with simian grace Round booths with many a hard bright toy And wooden brittle joy: The cap and bells of Time the Clown That, jangling, whistled down Young cherubs hidden in the guise Of every bird that flies; And star-bright masks for youth to wear, Lest any dream that fare Bright pilgrim past our ken, should see Hints of Reality. #Quote by Edith Sitwell

#7. It is my place to remind you of the rules," Stefan said, his voice even. "You, William Frost, have chosen three against three. Two fighters, with you as the captain of yours, and Marsilia as the captain of hers, with the other two participants on either side yet to be chosen. The fight is to the death of the captains."
"Excuse me," I said diffidently. "But both the captains are already dead."
Everyone looked at me. The vampires with cold, unfriendly gazes, and Honey as if I were crazy. That was okay - because I was utterly crazy. #Quote by Patricia Briggs

#8. If God is dead, everything is allowed. #Quote by Fyodor Dostoevsky

#9. The duende ... Where is the duende? Through the empty archway a wind of the spirit enters, blowing insistently over the heads of the dead, in search of new landscapes and unknown accents: a wind with the odour of a child's saliva, crushed grass, and medusa's veil, announcing the endless baptism of freshly created things. #Quote by Federico Garcia Lorca

#10. If the Lord should give you power to raise the dead, He would give much less than He does when he bestows suffering. By miracles you would make yourself debtor to Him, while by suffering He may become debtor to you. And even if sufferings had no other reward than being able to bear something for that God who loves you, is not this a great reward and a sufficient remuneration? Whoever loves, understands what I say. #Quote by Saint John Chrysostom

#11. It's easier to keep your stuff then it is to expose it, because some people don't get it. At the cross, at the feet of Jesus, there were some people who said, "Good! I'm glad that you're dead." Then there were some that were crying and saying, "Why are you doing this to this innocent man?" It is not easy to do. #Quote by Fred Hammond

#12. I want him [Saddam Hussein]. I want - I want justice. There is an old poster seen out west. As I recall, it said, Wanted Dead or Alive. #Quote by George W. Bush

#13. I have lived to see state after state extirpate its wolves. I have watched the face of many a newly wolfless mountain, and seen the south-facing slopes wrinkle with a maze of new deer trails. I have seen every edible bush and seedling browsed, first to anaemic desuetude, and then to death. I have seen every edible tree defoliated to the height of a saddlehorn. Such a mountain looks as if someone had given God a new pruning shears, and forbidden Him all other exercise. In the end the starved bones of the hoped-for deer herd, dead of its own too-much, bleach with the bones of the dead sage, or molder under the high-lined junipers.
I now suspect that just as a deer herd lives in mortal fear of its wolves, so does a mountain live in mortal fear of its deer. #Quote by Aldo Leopold

#14. Now say, have women worth, or have they none?
Or had they some, but with our Queen is't gone?
Nay Masculines, you have thus tax'd us long,
But she, though dead, will vindicate our wrong.
Let such as say our sex is void of reason
Know 'tis a slander now, but once was treason."
(In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess, Queen Elizabeth) #Quote by Anne Bradstreet

#15. I have seen trees that survive fire. Their bark is burned and their limbs are dead branches. But hidden under that skeleton is a force that sends a single shoot of green out into the world. #Quote by Holly Goldberg Sloan

#16. At 17, the first time I saw a dead body, I froze. By 31 it was a natural occurrence for me, and no group of people should live like that. #Quote by Leymah Gbowee

#17. You don't want to be here... neither and there... what you are going to see here is the truth after so much books, series, movies... the truth is going to have feet, legs... foot... and even a body and arms and head.... #Quote by Deyth Banger

#18. Perhaps I had missed a great deal, reading so continually and seeing the world through the windowpanes of books. But then, maybe not. If books had made up a large part of the experience of my youth, it only meant that what I'd missed in immediacy of experience, I'd gained in variety, looking so widely into the thought…s and dreams of others, of travelers and sages, of soldiers and scholars and all the mighty dead. #Quote by Fred Chappell

#19. Yeah, I know," he agreed. "It was a surprise," he admitted. "I mean, who the hell would have expected a ninety-seven-year-old man to just up and die?" Bill's dad had indeed been only three years from his one-hundredth birthday when he shocked everyone by waking up dead one morning. #Quote by Hope Jahren

#20. I actually come from comics, and I'm big on comics. I was reading 'Walking Dead' from the beginning. Then just being on the show, I was really lucky to work on episodes like 'Pretty Much Dead Already' and 'Clear.' I worked a lot on episodes that I didn't write. #Quote by Scott M. Gimple

#21. If you are dead you are totally unable to do anything to change your condition. We are spiritually helpless and hopeless and if our condition is to change, God must do it because we cannot. #Quote by Peter Jeffery

#22. I too shall lie in the dust when I am dead, but now let me win noble renown. #Quote by Homer

#23. To render aid to the worthless is sheer waste. Rain does not freshen the Dead Sea, but only enables it to dissolve more salt. #Quote by George Iles

#24. Existence is so reactive. All ducking and diving. There is no time for strategy. Still, i shouldn't grumble, I s'pose. I could be dead and that would be really boring. #Quote by Jamie Delano

#25. When you notice light seeping into your coffin, it's hard to go on pretending that you're still dead. #Quote by John Burdett

#26. Wallachia was not her mother. Wallachia did not care what happened to her. And every single person who might have was either dead or trying to kill her. #Quote by Kiersten White

#27. Lee followed, more relaxed to be led into the now familiar beauty of candlelight and the soft music of a banquet in that shrine to the dead. #Quote by Jim Provenzano

#28. I thought nothing; I didn't even despair; I was just stupefied and grey and dead. #Quote by Erich Maria Remarque

#29. Well, then,' said Charlie, his face half hidden in the shadows. 'How long do you think this baby has been dead? #Quote by Graham Masterton

#30. Yokohama does not improve on further acquaintance. It has a dead-alive look. It has irregularity without picturesqueness, and the grey sky, grey sea, grey houses, and grey roofs, look harmoniously dull. #Quote by Isabella Bird

#31. Silver's sweet and gold's our mother, but once you're dead they're worth less than that last shit you take as you lie dying. #Quote by George R R Martin

#32. A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb wiikwegamaa - to be a bay - releases the water from bondage and lets it live. "To be a bay" holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise - become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall, and there are verbs for that, too. To be a hill, to be a sandy beach, to be a Saturday, all are possible verbs in a world where everything is alive. Water, land, and even a day, the language a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world, the life that pulses through all things, through pines and nuthatches and mushrooms. This is the language I hear in the woods; this is the language that lets us speak of what wells up all around us.[…]
This is the grammar of animacy. #Quote by Robin Wall Kimmerer

#33. No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead. #Quote by T. S. Eliot

#34. They'd never scared him, really. When he was younger, he hadn't known that there was anything different about them. By the time he was old enough to figure out that no one else could see them, he was also old enough to realize that being dead didn't turn people into monsters. It just meant that most of them were lonely. #Quote by Jacqueline E. Smith

#35. Romance isn't just about roses or killing dragons or sailing a kayak around the world. It's also about chocolate chip cookies and sharing The Grateful Dead and James Taylor with me in the middle of the night, and believing me when I say that you could be bigger than both of them put together, and not making fun of me for straightening out my french fries or pointing my shoelaces in the same direction, and letting me pout when I don't get my own way, and pretending that if I play "Flower Drum Song" one more time you won't throw me and the record out the window #Quote by Steve Kluger

#36. A sematary," I say. "A what?" Viola says, looking round at all the square stones marking out their graves. Must be a hundred, maybe two, in orderly rows and well-kept grass. Settler life is hard and it's short and lotsa New World people have lost the battle.
"It's a place for burying dead folk," I say.
Her eyes widen. "A place for doing what?"
"Don't people die in space?" I ask.
"Yeah," she says. "But we burn them. We don't put them in holes." She crosses her arms around herself, mouth and forehead frowning, peering around at the graves. "How can this be sanitary? #Quote by Patrick Ness

#37. Probably the most extreme form of inequality is between people who are alive and people who are dead. #Quote by Peter Thiel

#38. Earlier in this century, philanthropy often flowed from the wills of dead industrialists. In recent decades, it's as likely to have come from a very alive business leader, entertainer, artist or sports star. The most effective of these patrons begin the process of giving by asking what they care about passionately. #Quote by Michael Milken

#39. Say my name," he countered, his hand wrapping around the irresistible length of her neck. This time it was he who whispered in her ear. "Say it."
"I do not know what it is," she said, her breath rushing out of her in an astounding rhythm.
"Yes, you do. I feel it. You only have to search for it inside of us." "Us" was the appropriate term. It was almost impossible in that moment for them to discern whose thoughts belonged to whom.
Gideon was the oldest of them all. There was no one older, so no one who had once known his power name could possibly be alive. His parents were dead. His Siddah were dead. If Legna discovered his name, the ramifications were inconceivably serious. He would be putting his very existence into her hands. He would be placing all of his power at her fingertips, gifting her with the potential for his absolute submission. Legna tried to step back from him, the shock of what he was offering her too much to bear. But he had made sure to have his hands on her and now kept her tight and close within them.
"I cannot," she whispered, her body beginning to shake. "No one should know that. No one. I am not strong enough to keep it, Gideon. Any male Mind Demon could take it from me!"
"You are stronger than you think, Neliss."
"Not strong enough. Please, do not ask this of me." She pushed at him, jerked herself backward, using the weight of her body to try and break free. He held her for a moment longer, looking deeply into her panic-st #Quote by Jacquelyn Frank

#40. You must not die. You must not die by any hand, but least of all your own. Until the other, who has fouled your sweet life, is true dead you must not die. For if he is still with the quick Undead, your death would make you even as he is. No, you must live! You must struggle and strive to live, though death would seem a boon unspeakable. You must fight Death himself, though he come to you in pain or in joy. By the day, or the night, in safety or in peril! On your living soul I charge you that you do not die. Nay, nor think of death, till this great evil be past. #Quote by Bram Stoker

#41. Ah the dead to me mar not, they fit well in Nature,
They fit very well in the landscape under the trees and grass,
And along the edge of the sky in the horizon's far margin. #Quote by Walt Whitman

#42. I'd always thought there was a great divide between a spirit and a ghost- I just didn't realize how small the gap was between the dead and the living #Quote by Jodi Picoult

#43. There is no pain - just travel.
On her knees, she stays still as a supplicant ready for communion. It is very quiet. All of a sudden there is no hurry. There will be time for everything. For the breezes that blow and for the rainwater drying in the gutters, for Maury to find a place of safety in the world, for Malcolm to come back from the dead and ask her about birds and jets. For the big things too, things like beauty and vengeance and honor and righteousness and the grace of God and the slow spilling of the earth from day to night and back to day again.
It is spread out before her, compressed into one single moment. She will be able to see it all -- if she can keep her sleepy eyes open.
It's like a dream where she is. Like a dream where you find yourself underwater and you are panicked for a moment until you realize you no longer need to breathe, and you can stay under the surface forever.
She feels her body falling sideways to the ground. It happens slow - and she expects a crash that never comes because her mind is jumping and it doesn't know which way is up anymore, like the moon above her and the fish below her and her in between floating, like on the surface of the river, floating between sea and sky, the world all skin, all meniscus, and she a part of it too.
Moses Todd told her if you lean over the rail at Niagara Falls it takes your breath away, like turning yourself inside out -- and Lee the hunter told her that one time people used to stu #Quote by Alden Bell

#44. Leandred never uses magic without reason. He's not going to freak out and do magic because he experiences emotion. It's doubtful, anyway." Patrick shrugged. "Before you showed up, I would have told you he was dead inside. #Quote by Anne Zoelle

#45. I picked my way through the corpses to another Illyrian.
Then another. And another.
Some I knew. Some I didn't. Still the killing field stretched onward under the sky.
Mile after mile. A kingdom of the rotting dead.
And still I looked. #Quote by Sarah J. Maas

#46. There are plenty of dates that are dead nights that you could do. There are plenty evenings that are dead nights that you could have the debates in. #Quote by Donald Trump

#47. If a man is alive, there is always danger that he may die, though the danger must be allowed to be less in proportion as he is dead-and-alive to begin with. A man sits as many risks as he runs. #Quote by Henry David Thoreau

#48. I looked where he was tapping.
"Local Girl Missing, Feared Dead"
Beneath it was a photo or me-my most recent school photo. "Oh no." My heart filling with dread, i took the paper from Mr. Smith's hands. "Couldn't they have found a better picture? #Quote by Meg Cabot

#49. Don't strew me with roses after I'm dead.
...When Death claims the light of my brow
No flowers of life will cheer me: instead
You may give me my roses now! #Quote by Thomas F. Healy

#50. I can't be the only insomniac who has looked out his living room window and thought, "Why don't we all get together? We're awake. We could swap sleep recipes, console each other, plot terrible crimes." But it won't happen, any gathering of the near-dead, because the only thing more abhorrent to a restless mind in the ugly hours than the actual harshness of the ugly hours is the thought of having to listen to somebody else. Somebody else in distress, also angry at the comfortable world. #Quote by RM Vaughan

#51. Speech is human, silence is divine, yet also brutish and dead: therefore we must learn both arts. #Quote by Thomas Carlyle

#52. Tyrion seated himself and took a sip of wine. If a man paints a target on his chest, he should expect that sooner or later someone will loose an arrow at him. I have seen dead men with more humor than your Ser Alliser. #Quote by George R R Martin

#53. Together with an elderly artist (I regret that I don't remember his name) he occupied a separate room in the barracks. And there Yuri painted for nothing schmaltzy pictures such as Nero's Feast and the Chorus of Elves and the like for the German officers on the commandant's staff. In return, he was given food. The slops for which the POW officers stood in line with their mess tins from 6 a.m. on, while the Ordners beat them with sticks and the cooks with ladles, were not enough to sustain life. At evening, Yuri could see from the windows of their room the one and only picture for which his artistic talent had been given him: the evening mist hovering above a swampy meadow encircled by barbed wire; a multitude of bonfires; and, around the bonfires, beings who had once been Russian officers but had now become beastlike creatures who gnawed the bones of dead horses, who baked patties from potato rinds, who smoked manure and were all swarming with lice. Not all those two-legged creatures had died as yet. Not all of them had yet lost the capacity for intelligible speech, and one could see in the crimson reflections of the bonfires how a belated understanding was dawning on those faces which were descending to the Neanderthal. #Quote by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

#54. But unlike Mama, I would not go to heaven. My secrets padlocked the gates. I'd be a torn kite stuck in the dead branches of a tree, unable to fly. #Quote by Ruta Sepetys

#55. When I die, I wonder what will happen to me. Is there some place like heaven, and will I be able to meet you there someday? I don't know. There's no way to know. No one knows what comes after death. But at the very least, we won't be able to talk until then.

There's a wide, deep and fast running river between the living and the dead. Once you cross that river, no matter what happens, you're never coming back. It's a one way trip. #Quote by Ao Jyumonji

#56. What is worthwhile in life? I think it is worth living and dreaming. If you don't you may be dead anyhow - inside. #Quote by John Muir

#57. Oh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing among flowers can say - here, HERE lies my beloved; ye know not the desolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in those black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in those immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden infidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse resurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a grave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta as here. #Quote by Herman Melville

#58. In Plaster

I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now:
This new absolutely white person and the old yellow one,
And the white person is certainly the superior one.
She doesn't need food, she is one of the real saints.

At the beginning I hated her, she had no personality --
She lay in bed with me like a dead body

And I was scared, because she was shaped just the way I was 


Only much whiter and unbreakable and with no complaints.
I couldn't sleep for a week, she was so cold.
I blamed her for everything, but she didn't answer.

I couldn't understand her stupid behavior!

When I hit her she held still, like a true pacifist.

Then I realized what she wanted was for me to love her:
She began to warm up, and I saw her advantages.



Without me, she wouldn't exist, so of course she was grateful.

I gave her a soul, I bloomed out of her as a rose

Blooms out of a vase of not very valuable porcelain,
And it was I who attracted everybody's attention,

Not her whiteness and beauty, as I had at first supposed.

I patronized her a little, and she lapped it up --

You could tell almost at once she had a slave mentality.



I didn't mind her waiting on me, and she adored it.

In the morning she woke me early, reflecting the sun

From her amazingly white torso, and I couldn't help but notice

Her tidiness and her calmness and her #Quote by Sylvia Plath

#59. Once their rage explodes, they recover their lost coherence, they experience self-knowledge through reconstruction of themselves; from afar we see their war as the triumph of barbarity; but it proceeds on its own to gradually emancipate the fighter and progressively eliminates the colonial darkness inside and out. As soon as it begins it is merciless. Either one must remain terrified or become terrifying - which means surrendering to the dissociations of a fabricated life or conquering the unity of one's native soil. When the peasants lay hands on a gun, the old myths fade, and one by one the taboos are overturned: a fighter's weapon is his humanity. For in the first phase of the revolt killing is a necessity: killing a European is killing two birds with one stone, eliminating in one go oppressor and oppressed: leaving one man dead and the other man free; #Quote by Frantz Fanon

#60. Dying may be the way of all things flesh, but living is too. Never let death shroud life with fear. Live beyond it, lad. Only then can the memory of those ye've loved and lost be rightly honored. #Quote by Micheline Ryckman

#61. Aelin ran for Manon, leaping over the fallen stones, her ankle wrenching on loose debris.
The island rocked with her every step, and the sunlight was scalding, as if Mala were holding that island aloft with every last bit of strength the goddess could summon in this land.
Then Aelin was upon Manon Blackbeak, and the witch lifted hate-filled eyes to her. Aelin hauled off stone after stone from her body, the island beneath them buckling.
"You're too good a fighter to kill," Aelin breathed, hooking an arm under Manon's shoulders and hauling her up. The rock swayed to the left-but held. Oh, gods. "If I die because of you, I'll beat the shit out of you in hell."
She could have sworn the witch let out a broken laugh as she got to her feet, nearly dead weight in Aelin's arms. #Quote by Sarah J. Maas

#62. The idea of getting a lifetime job, and making $100,000 a year, with benefits, is dead and gone. It's over. And it may never come again. That's a very scary thought for a lot of people. #Quote by Robert Herjavec

#63. Were it not for Scientology, I would either be completely insane or dead by now, #Quote by Lisa Marie Presley

#64. Those who are close to us, when they die, divide our world. There is the world of the living, which we finally, in one way or another, succumb to, and then there is the domain of the dead that, like an imaginary friend (or foe) or a secret concubine, constantly beckons, reminding us of our loss. What is memory but a ghost that lurks at the corners of the mind, interrupting our normal course of life, disrupting our sleep in order to remind us of some acute pain or pleasure, something silenced or ignored? We miss not only their presence, or how they felt about us, but ultimately how they allowed us to feel about ourselves or them. (prologue) #Quote by Azar Nafisi

#65. As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead. #Quote by Algernon Charles Swinburne

#66. One dead and one alone. That's how the story ends. #Quote by Karen Quan

#67. One of the strangest events, however, happened in the first year of Elizabeth (1558), when dyed Sir Thomas Cheney, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, of whom it is reported for a certain, that his pulse did beat more than three quarters of an hour after he was dead, as strongly as if he had been still alive. #Quote by William Shakespeare

#68. Yes. It's our duty to remember the dead. And our duty to let them go. #Quote by Kevin Hearne

#69. Look at the sun! It's dry, it's dead, it needs a drink, it wants blood! And I'll give it blood! #Quote by Alfred De Musset

#70. It's like when you read a book and you know that the words are important, but the images blossoming in your imagination are even more important because it's your mind that allows the words to come to life. #Quote by Jack Gantos

#71. There are no second-place finishers - you don't take silver, you simply lose gold. Second place is nothing but the best loser - nobody lost better than the guy in second place. But on the battlefield that guy usually winds up dead. #Quote by Jamie Smith

#72. Sawyer's eyes met mine over his father's shoulder. I could see the concern in them. I knew what he was thinking. The little shit was worried about me. I didn't want him to worry about me. I was fine. I didn't need anything from Harris Vincent. I'd made it eighteen years without him. He was as good as dead to me #Quote by Abbi Glines

#73. I used to look up at night and dream of the solar system. I know, I know
who didn't? But your own dreams always seem so special, so terribly yours, until you grow up and figure out they're just like everyone else's. How perfect and beautiful and silent and dead each planet hung in my heart! All nine names, written in squiggly, shaky handwriting, glowing inside me. #Quote by Catherynne M Valente

#74. Do You Know That By Just Saying "I WANNA DIE" Or "I WISH I COULD DIE" ... God Can Answer That Prayer???
You Will Be Cancelled In The Book Of Life And At Heaven You Will Be Dead, But You Will Just Be Walking On Earth Waiting To Go To Hell. Thats What Most People Call HELL OF A LIFE ... A Life Of Someone Who Is Not Written In The Book Of Life.
So People Stop Playing With Those Words.
And If You Once Said That, PRAY TONIGHT SO THAT GOD RE-WRITES YOU IN THE BOOK OF LIFE. #Quote by Cyc Jouzy

#75. He knew about alcohol, nothing about this. He could drink and he could stop. Others couldn't and drank themselves dead. Personal biochemistry. Fate. "I #Quote by Robert J. Wolfe

#76. Our theory of disaster, of sorrow, of affliction, borrowed from the poets and novelist, is that it is incessant; but every passage in our own lives and in the lives of others, so far as we have witnessed them, teaches us that this is false. The house of mourning is decorously darkened to the world, but within itself it is also the house of laughing. Burst of gaiety, as heartfelt as its grief, relieve the gloom, and the stricken survivors have their jest together, in which the thought of the dead is tenderly involved, and a fond sense, not crazier than many others, of sympathy and enjoyment beyond the silence, justifies the sunnier mood before sorrow rushes back, deploring and despairing, and make it all up again with the conventional fitness of things. #Quote by William Dean Howells

#77. Our basic human institutions - religion, matrimony, and burial, also law, language, literature, and whatever else relies on the transmission of legacy - are authored, always and from the very start, by those who cam before. The awareness of death that defines human nature is inseparable from - indeed, it arises from, our awareness that we are not self-authored, that we follow in the footsteps of the dead. . . .
Nonhuman species obey the law of vitality, but humanity in its distinctive features is through and through necrocratic. Whether we are conscious of it or not we do the will of the ancestors; their precedents are our law; we submit to their dictates, even when we rebel against them. Our diligence, hardihood, rectitude, and heroism, but also our folly, spite, rancor, and pathologies, are so many signatures of the dead on the contracts that seal our identities. We inherit their obsessions; assume their burdens; carry on their causes; promote their mentalities, ideologies, and very often their superstitions; and often we die trying to vindicate their humiliations.
Why this servitude? We have no choice. Only the dead can grant us legitimacy. Left to ourselves we all bastards. #Quote by Robert Pogue Harrison

#78. I'm not bloodthirsty, but ... seriously, she killed you. She needs to be dead. #Quote by Melissa Marr

#79. No. No. No. I couldn't be dead. I hadn't even brushed my teeth, for crying out loud. There #Quote by Jennifer L. Armentrout

#80. Great teaching - just plain old knock 'em dead, get it right, make 'em laugh, make 'em wonder instruction - is always going to be rare. Good teachers abound. Great ones are special. #Quote by Robert Krulwich

#81. It began when they come took me from my home
And put me in Dead Row,
Of which I am nearly wholly innocent, you know.
And I'll say it again
I..am..not..afraid..to..die.

And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
An eye for an eye
A tooth for a tooth
And anyway I told the truth
And I'm not afraid to die.

And the mercy seat is burning
And I think my head is glowing
And in a way I'm hoping
To be done with all this weighing up of truth.
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
And I've got nothing left to lose
And I'm not afraid to die.

And the mercy seat is glowing
And I think my head is smoking
And in a way I'm hoping
To be done with all this looks of disbelief.
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
And anyway there was no proof
Nor a motive why.

And the mercy seat is waiting
And I think my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this measuring of truth.
An eye for an eye
And a truth for a truth
And anyway I told the truth
But I'm afraid I told a lie. #Quote by Charles Bukowski

#82. The gifts we received from the dead: those were the world's only genuine gifts. All other things in the world were commodities. The dead were, by definition, those who gave to us without reward. And, especially: our dead gave to us, the living, within a dead context. Their gifts to us were not just abjectly generous, but archaic and profoundly confusing.
Whenever we disciplined ourselves, in some vague hope of benefiting posterity, in some ambition to create a better future beyond our own moment in time, then we were doing something beyond a rational analysis. Those in that future could never see us with our own eyes: they would see us only with the eyes that we ourselves gave to them. Never our own eyes: always with their own. And the future's eyes always saw the truths of the past as blinkered, backward, halting. Superstition. #Quote by Bruce Sterling

#83. All human life, from the very beginning of its development within capitalist society, has undergone an impoverishment. More than this, capitalist society is death organized with all the appearances of life. Here it is not a question of death as the extinction of life, but death-in-life, death with all the substance of power of life. The human being is dead and is no more than a ritual of capital. #Quote by Jacques Camatte

#84. Our language, tiger, our language: hundreds of thousands of available words, frillions of legitimate new ideas ... And yet, oh, and yet, we, all of us, spend all our days saying to each other the same things time after weary time: "I love you," "Don't go in there," "Get out," "You have no right to say that," "Stop it," "Why should I," "That hurt," "Help," "Marjorie is dead. #Quote by Stephen Fry

#85. It means that all witches who hunt will turn their full attention on the ones Dominique considers responsible for my murder. They will call on their allies. They will track down anyone they have ever know to have a connection to the killers, without worrying about messy treaties with SingleEarth or other normally respected neutral havens."

"I don't suppose they care that your are not, in fact, dead," Nikolas said.

Sarah shook her head. "In their eyes, I am. #Quote by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

#86. Aamir, recalling back to the idyllic days of his college youth, pictured himself once again sitting quietly on a familiar neighbourhood rooftop. He often enjoyed relaxing there, alone or with friends, while watching the colourful fluttering prayer flags on rooftop poles, especially in the warmth of an early evening breeze, as wispy clouds drifted against the jagged Himalayan backdrop. He has oft times wondered, ever since his childhood, if the prayers to the spirits of the dead, flying out from those slowly tattering rags, will ever really be answered. Perhaps it will be in another place, in another time, when we're living another life that we shall finally know. Aamir had calmly thought at the time. He was that sort of philosophical guy. #Quote by Andrew James Pritchard

#87. Better a live goat than a dead fool. #Quote by Vanessa Read

#88. and wherever they chose. The formidable Bill Sikes glowered and menaced and planned robberies. Oliver Twist - to the best of Dodger's knowledge - was lying in a ditch somewhere and might well be dead. And Nancy, that tragic woman whose fundamental goodness of femininity had been diminished and dimmed, but not destroyed, by her life as a slattern whore, was still practicing her trade #Quote by Peter David

#89. Our lives are encumbered with the dead wood of this past; all that is dead and has served its purpose has to go. But that does not mean a break with, or a forgetting of, the vital and life-giving in that past. We can never forget the ideals that have moved our race, the dreams of the Indian people through the ages, the wisdom of the ancients, the buoyant energy and love of life and nature of our forefathers, their spirit of curiosity and mental adventure, the daring of their thought, their splendid achievements in literature, art and culture, their love of truth and beauty and freedom, the basic values that they set up, their understanding of life's mysterious ways, their toleration of other ways than theirs, their capacity to absorb other peoples and their cultural accomplishments, to synthesize them and develop a varied and mixed culture; nor can we forget the myriad experiences which have built up our ancient race and lie embedded in our sub-conscious minds. We will never forget them or cease to take pride in that noble heritage of ours. If India forgets them she will no longer remain India and much that has made her our joy and pride will cease to be. #Quote by Jawaharlal Nehru

#90. Crazy is such a misunderstood term. I like to think that I march to the beat of my own drummer. #Quote by Eva Sloan

#91. Too bad Einstein's dead. I'm sure he would have appreciated my latest discovery
within the space-time continuum.The closer you are to experiencing a monumental event, the longer time
stretches out. It makes you feel alone #Quote by Susane Colasanti

#92. Bram was staring at me in dibelief, as if I were trying to persuade him that his entire existencce as a dead man was simply an incredibly realistic dream. #Quote by Lia Habel

#93. I look for the entrepreneur to capture my attention. If you don't come out with a great presentation, you're dead. That's a big red flag, #Quote by Robert Herjavec

#94. The impression that a praying mother leaves upon her children is life-long. Perhaps when you are dead and gone your prayer will be answered. #Quote by Dwight L. Moody

#95. Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead.
I shall feel it."
She dropped her head again on Marius' knees, and her eyelids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. Eponine remained motionless. All at once, at the very moment when Marius fancied her asleep forever, she slowly opened her eyes in which appeared the sombre profundity of death, and said to him in a tone whose sweetness seemed already to proceed from another world:
"And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you. #Quote by Victor Hugo

#96. You interrogated a man at Hades's compound a year ago. I heard what you did to him. I can't have dead prisoners here; we have to be better than that." "I didn't kill him," I objected, remembering the murderous bastard who'd tried to kill Hades before he'd been caught. Unfortunately we hadn't stopped him from killing his own wife and children. "You took his hands. You know he killed himself in our jail?" "Yeah, well, I'm not going to kill anyone. Just talk. They wanted to kill me back in Southampton, now they want to take me to talk. I'd like to know why. And I heard your prisoner died by getting into a fight with another prisoner." "He walked up to a cave troll and kicked him. The troll tore his head off and threw it fifty feet away. What would you call that?" "Suicide by troll. That's new. #Quote by Steve McHugh

#97. I have spent much of my studies searching for the right question by which I might fully understand the breach between the world and me. I have not spent my time studying the problem of 'race' - 'race' itself is just a restatement and retrenchment of the problem. You see this from time to time when some dullard - usually believing himself white - proposes that the way forward is a grand orgy of black and white, ending only when we are all beige and thus the same 'race.' But a great number of 'black' people are already beige. And the history of civilization is littered with dead 'races' (Frankish, Italian, German, Irish) later abandoned because they no longer serve their purpose - the organization of people beneath, and beyond, and the umbrella of rights. #Quote by Ta-Nehisi Coates

#98. He felt the scent and the golden glow of the sunset light as intensely as he felt the dead silence which reigned between himself and Hester almost with the effect of a physical presence. #Quote by Frances Hodgson Burnett

#99. You think the dead we have loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him. #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#100. Not only are selves conditional but they die. Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time? #Quote by John Updike

#101. That's it. New rule: no more flirting during the zombie apocalypse #Quote by Alison Kemper

#102. Feel this," says Harold Bazin, and crouches and brings her hand to a curved wall which is completely studded with snails. Hundreds of them. Thousands.
"So many," she whispers.
"I don't know why. Maybe because they're safe from gulls? Here, feel this, I'll turn it over." Hundreds of tiny, squirming hydraulic feet beneath a horny, ridged top: a sea star. "Blue mussels here. And here's a dead stone crab, can you feel his claw? #Quote by Anthony Doerr

#103. A warrior considers himself already dead, so there is nothing to lose. The worst has already happened to him, therefore he's clear and calm; judging him by his acts or by his words, one would never suspect that he has witnessed everything. #Quote by Carlos Castaneda

#104. We live among ruins in a World in which 'god is dead' as Nietzsche stated. The ideals of today are comfort, expediency, surface knowledge, disregard for one's ancestral heritage and traditions, catering to the lowest standards of taste and intelligence, apotheosis of the pathetic, hoarding of material objects and possessions, disrespect for all that is inherently higher and better - in other words
a complete inversion of true values and ideals, the raising of the victory flag of ignorance and the banner of degeneracy. In such a time, social decadence is so widespread that it appears as a natural component of all political institutions. The crises that dominate the daily lives of our societies are part of a secret occult war to remove the support of spiritual and traditional values in order to turn man into a passive instrument of dark powers.

The common ground of both Capitalism and Socialism is a materialistic view of life and being. Materialism in its war with the Spirit has taken on many forms; some have promoted its goals with great subtlety, whilst others have done so with an alarming lack of subtlety, but all have added, in greater or lesser measure, to the growing misery of Mankind. The forms which have done the most damage in our time may be enumerated as: Freemasonry, Liberalism, Nihilism, Capitalism, Socialism, Marxism, Imperialism, Anarchism, Modernism and the New Age. #Quote by Seyyed Hossein Nasr

#105. Yes, urge I do: warped chrysalis of what blind perfect seed: for who shall say what gnarled forgotten root might not bloom yet with some globed concentrate more globed and concentrate and heady-perfect because the neglected root was planted warped and lay not dead but merely slept forgot? #Quote by William Faulkner

#106. they simply couldn't tell me that they didn't have a cigarette. they had to give me their pitch, their religion: cigarettes were for cubes. they were going to Malibu, to some seeming loose and easy shack in Malibu and burn a bit of grass. they remind me, in a sense, of old ladies standing on a corner selling "The Watchtower." the whole LSD, STP, marijuana, heroin, hashish, prescription cough medicine crowd suffers from the "Watchtower" itch: you gotta be with us, man, or you're out, you're dead. this pitch is a continual and seeming MUST with those who use the stuff. it's no wonder they keep getting busted – they can't use the stuff quietly for their pleasure; they have to make it KNOWN that they are members. #Quote by Charles Bukowski

#107. The thing I love about you the most, is that when you're sleeping, I can imagine what you will look like when you're dead. #Quote by Julieanne Lynch

#108. I got bored of being sexual when I felt like a dead package of skin waiting to be unwrapped. #Quote by Elle Nash

#109. I said to myself if Christianity is dead, I will sit at its tomb and will weep until it arises again, just as Mary Magdalene sat at the tomb of Jesus and wept until Jesus showed Himself. Then when I came out of prison I saw Christianity is not dead. The number of practicing Christians in Rumania according to the figures given by the Communists themselves in 20 years of Communist dictatorship has grown 300 percent. #Quote by Richard Wurmbrand

#110. We should never forget that our time is among the talents for which we must give account at the judgment of God. Time being not the least precious of these, will be required with a strictness proportionate to its value. Let us tremble at this idea, as well we may. We must be tried not only for what we have done - but for what we had time to do, yet neglected to do it. Not only for the hours spent in sin - but for those wasted in idleness. Let us beware of that mode of spending time which some call killing it, for this murder,like others, will not always be concealed - the hours destroyed in secret will appear when we least expect it, to the unspeakable terror and amazement of our souls - they arise from the dead, and fly away to heaven, where they might have carried better news, and there tell sad tales of us, which we shall be sure to hear of again, when we hold up our hands at the bar, and they shall come as so many swift witnesses against us! #Quote by John Angell James

#111. I grew up with a lot of guys, some of them are dead, some of them are this and some of them that, and some of them very, very powerful, bright young men, who became this instead of that simply because of a lack of guidance - that's all. #Quote by Harvey Keitel

#112. It's a long story," I said. "The short version is Diesel and I are pretending to get married, so we can get Kloughn to marry Valerie." "Does Morelli know about this?" "It's pretend." "I'm not even gonna ask if Ranger knows. Poor ol' Diesel here be dead if Ranger knew. #Quote by Janet Evanovich

#113. If you don't move your body, your brain thinks you're dead. Movement of the body will not only clear out the "sludge," but will also give you more energy #Quote by Sylvia Brown

#114. One day on the plains he had an angry dispute with one of his wagon-drivers, and both drew their revolvers. But the driver was the quicker artist, and had his weapon cocked first. So Slade said it was a pity to waste life on so small a matter, and proposed that the pistols be thrown on the ground and the quarrel settled by a fist-fight. The unsuspected driver agreed, and threw down his pistol-whereupon Slade laughed at his simplicity, and shot him dead! #Quote by Mark Twain

#115. My sisters and I cannot spend any substantial time searching for Wickham, as we are each commanded by His Majesty to defend Hertfordshire from all enemies until such time as we are dead, rendered lame, or married. #Quote by Seth Grahame-Smith

#116. Never speak ill of the dead, insult his kin instead. #Quote by Brian Spellman

#117. The concept of a supermind running the universe objectively, without compassion, is not new. Several religions are built around it. Thinking of God in these terms is not heresy but is advanced theology. The old-time God - the big bearded man sitting on a throne in the sky - is dead. #Quote by John A. Keel

#118. A whore who with icy shudders gives birth to a small dead child. #Quote by Georg Trakl

#119. To imagine a new world is to live it daily, each thought, each glance, each step, each gesture, killing and recreating, death always a step in advance. To spit on the past is not enough. To proclaim the future is not enough. One must act as if the past were dead and the future unrealizable. #Quote by Henry Miller

#120. - I been here before, haven't I?
He just sat there staring out at the plain.
Son of a bitch, I thought. He's ignoring me.
- Hey, I said, I'm not the dead, not a shade in passing. I'm flesh and blood here.
He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and started writing.
- You got to at least look at me, I said. After all, it is my dream.
I drew closer. Close enough to see what he was writing. He had his notebook open to a blank page and three words suddenly materialized.
Nope, it's mine.
- Well, I'll be damned, I murmured. I shaded my eyes and stood there looking out toward what he was seeing - dust clouds flatbed tumbleweed white sky - a whole lot of nothing.
- The writer is a conductor, he drawled. #Quote by Patti Smith

#121. I see you lying next to me, with words I thought i'd never speak, awake and unafraid, asleep or dead? #Quote by Gerard Way

#122. I looked at it out there. The figures that held my attention, as always (I too had an office at Buna, and spent many hours in front of its window), the figures that held my attention were not the men in stripes, as they queued or scurried in lines or entangled one another in a kind of centipedal scrum, moving at an unnatural speed, like extras in a silent film, moving faster than their strength or build could bear, as if in obedience to a frantic crank swivelled by a furious hand; the figures that held my attention were not the Kapos who screamed at the prisoners, nor the SS noncoms who screamed at the Kapos, nor the overalled company foremen who screamed at the SS noncoms. No. What held my eye were the figures in city business suits, designers, engineers, administrators from IG Farben plants in Frankfurt, Leverkusen, Ludwigshafen, with leather-bound notebooks and retractable yellow measuring tapes, daintily picking their way past the bodies of the wounded, the unconscious, and the dead. #Quote by Martin Amis

#123. For those of us who can, there are certain precautions we must take in order to protect ourselves and those around us. The first and most important is this-never acknowledge the dead. Don't look at them, don't speak to them don't let them sense your fear. Even when they touch you" ... "The second thing you must remember is this," Papa said. "Never stray too far from hallowed ground." ... "Rule Number Three," he said. "Keep your distance from those who are haunted. If they seek you out, turn away from them, for they constitute a terrible threat and cannot be trusted." ... "Rule Number Four," he said sternly. "Never, ever tempt fate. #Quote by Amanda Stevens

#124. I went to jail 44 times. I've been beaten and left for dead on the side of the road fighting for freedom ... Yet Rosa Parks is better known in history than Ralph David Abernathy. Why is that? #Quote by Ralph Abernathy

#125. When I am dead, no pageant train shall waste their sorrows at my bier. Nor worthless pomp of homage vain stain it with hypocritic tear. #Quote by Edward Everett

#126. Talk is only a pretext for other, subtler forms of communication. When the latter are inoperative speech becomes dead. If two people are intent upon communicating with one another it doesn't matter in the least how bewildering the talk becomes. People who insist upon clarity and logic often fail in making themselves understood. They are always-searching for a more perfect transmitter, deluded by the supposition that the mind is the only instrument for the exchange of thought. When one really begin to talk one delivers himself. Words are thrown about recklessly, not counted like pennies. One doesn't care about grammatical or factual errors, contradictions, lies and so on. One talks. If you are talking to some one who knows how to listen he understands perfectly, even though the words make no sense. When this kind of talk gets under way a marriage takes place, no matter whether you are talking to a man or a woman. Men talking with other men have as much need of this sort of marriage as women talking with women have. Married couples seldom enjoy this kind of talk, for reasons which are only too obvious. #Quote by Henry Miller

#127. Animal Man: 'Listen, just tell me one thing: am I REAL or what?'
Grant Morrison: 'Of COURSE you're real! We wouldn't be here talking if you weren't real.
'You existed long before I wrote about you and, if you're lucky, you'll still be young when I'm old or dead.
'You're more real than I am. #Quote by Grant Morrison

#128. In a dead white field an untethered goat gave them sardonic greeting. #Quote by Anthony Burgess

#129. The next time believers tell you that 'separation of church and state' does not appear in our founding document, tell them to stop using the word 'trinity.' The word 'trinity' appears nowhere in the bible. Neither does Rapture, or Second Coming, or Original Sin. If they are still unfazed (or unphrased), by this, then add Omniscience, Omnipresence, Supernatural,Transcendence, Afterlife, Deity, Divinity, Theology, Monotheism, Missionary, Immaculate Conception, Christmas, Christianity, Evangelical, Fundamentalist, Methodist, Catholic, Pope, Cardinal, Catechism, Purgatory, Penance, Transubstantiation, Excommunication, Dogma, Chastity, Unpardonable Sin, Infallibility, Inerrancy, Incarnation, Epiphany, Sermon, Eucharist, the Lord's Prayer, Good Friday, Doubting Thomas, Advent, Sunday School, Dead Sea, Golden Rule, Moral, Morality, Ethics, Patriotism, Education, Atheism, Apostasy, Conservative (Liberal is in), Capital Punishment, Monogamy, Abortion, Pornography, Homosexual, Lesbian, Fairness, Logic, Republic, Democracy, Capitalism, Funeral, Decalogue, or Bible. #Quote by Dan Barker

#130. Anyway,
if my lips were rose petals they'd taste too bitter.
If my cheeks were apples they'd crawl with apple worms.
If my eyes were stars they'd be dead by the time you saw them.
If I moved you like the moon I'd disappear once a month.
If my teeth were Chiclets you'd want to chew on them and spit them out.
If my hands were birds you couldn't hold them; they'd peck you bloody.
Is my skin alabaster? Then it's cold and hard and one day someone will skin me,
make me into a cold hard box tinged with pink or yellow, to hold unguents, then
how will you love me?
If my vagina is a cool, dark forest you'll certainly be lost, you have no sense of direction.
If my vagina is a cave-watch out! It's prone to seismic shifts and avalanche.
If my vagina is a river of honey: orange, lavender, fine herbs, hazelnut, all too sweet.
If my ears are shells I can't hear you, only the ocean anyway.
And if my voice is music, it is unintelligible.
Don't say anything.
I am not a flower, but a body with rules and predictable, cellular qualities.
My eyelashes and fingernails and skin and spit are organized by proteins
designed to erode at a pre-encoded date and time, no matter what you do or do
not do to me-
I am remarkably like an animal.
More like a heifer than a sunrise, I want to bite, stroke, swallow you so stop lying
there trying to think of something to say and trying to understand me.
#Quote by Rachel Zucker

#131. It's very difficult to talk about the war dead and the fallen without invoking valor, without invoking the words 'heroes.' I feel ... uncomfortable about the word hero because it seems to me that it is so rhetorically proximate to justifications for more war. #Quote by Chris Hayes

#132. When two tigers fight, one is injured beyond repair - and the other one is dead. #Quote by Marc Cameron

#133. A scarf from her dress works free and floats behind her the way memories float behind the dead. #Quote by Milan Kundera

#134. When did you get so peppy?" she shouted.
"Ever since I assumed I was dead, then I suddenly wasn't."
"Then remind me to try to kill you once in a while," she snapped. "If I succeed, it will make me feel better, and if I fail, it will make you feel better. Everyone wins! #Quote by Brandon Sanderson

#135. Mars is a rock - cold, empty, almost airless, dead. Yet it's heaven in a way. We can see it in the night sky, a whole other world, but too nearby, too close within the reach of the people who've made such a hell of life here on Earth. #Quote by Octavia E. Butler

#136. He looked at the book, took my name, and consulted his records. Then he informed me I had been lost at sea and was dead. Under the circumstances, he could not possibly give me any money ... Even the fact that he was dealing with someone who had been dead for several days failed to awaken interest in his official heart. #Quote by Elizabeth Kenny

#137. He put his hand over my mouth. His hand felt warm, full of blood, the hand of a living man. "Death is a gift, so long as it is nature's hand. But this," he drew his hand away, and nodded toward the dead man in the grass. "When we are called back unnaturally, Death demands a price, for there is always a balance. If I am alive, then someone else must die before his time. This is what you have done. But he is the lucky one. He is at peace. I know what awaits him, and I envy him. #Quote by Douglas Clegg

#138. And of the shining sword, and of the glittering spear, and of a multitude slain, and of a grievous destruction: and there is no end of carcasses, and they shall fall down on their dead bodies. 4 Because of the multitude of the for nications of the harlot that was beauti ful and agreeable, and that made use of witchcraft, that sold nations through her fornications, and families through her witchcrafts. #Quote by Anonymous

#139. Where feelings for God are dead, worship is dead. #Quote by John Piper

#140. Okay," I said. "I'd hoped to avoid this, but ... Bill, I rescind your invitation into my house." Bill began walking backward to the door, a helpless look on his face, and my brush still in his hand. Eric grinned at him triumphantly.
"Eric," I said, and his smile faded. "I rescind your invitation into my house." And backward he went, out my door and off my porch. The door slammed shut behind (or maybe in front of?) them. #Quote by Charlaine Harris

#141. Wild Peaches"

When the world turns completely upside down
You say we'll emigrate to the Eastern Shore
Aboard a river-boat from Baltimore;
We'll live among wild peach trees, miles from town,
You'll wear a coonskin cap, and I a gown
Homespun, dyed butternut's dark gold color.
Lost, like your lotus-eating ancestor,
We'll swim in milk and honey till we drown.

The winter will be short, the summer long,
The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot,
Tasting of cider and of scuppernong;
All seasons sweet, but autumn best of all.
The squirrels in their silver fur will fall
Like falling leaves, like fruit, before your shot.


2

The autumn frosts will lie upon the grass
Like bloom on grapes of purple-brown and gold.
The misted early mornings will be cold;
The little puddles will be roofed with glass.
The sun, which burns from copper into brass,
Melts these at noon, and makes the boys unfold
Their knitted mufflers; full as they can hold
Fat pockets dribble chestnuts as they pass.

Peaches grow wild, and pigs can live in clover;
A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year;
The spring begins before the winter's over.
By February you may find the skins
Of garter snakes and water moccasins
Dwindled and harsh, dead-white and cloudy-clear.


3

When April pours the colors of a shell
Upon the hill #Quote by Elinor Wylie

#142. In November, when our nation remembers her fallen soldiers and honours the lost youth of my generation, the Prime Minister, government leaders and the hollow men of business affix paper poppies to their lapels and afford the dead of war two minutes' silence. Afterwards, they speak golden platitudes about the struggle and the heroism of that time. Yet the words they speak are meaningless because they have surrendered the values my generation built after the horrors of the Second World War. #Quote by Harry Leslie Smith

#143. Lotto fever hit New York again this week, and like the old saying goes, 'You gotta be in it to win it' ... but first, you gotta have a dead end job so pathetic you're willing to kill five hours standing in line for a 1 in 25 million chance. #Quote by Dennis Miller

#144. I love crafting. Knitting, decoupage, scrapbooking, any "lady-ish" art form, I'm a fan. For about six months each. Then I shove all the supplies in a closet, alongside the skeletons of long dead New Year's resolutions, like saber fencing, playing the ukulele, and Japanese brush painting. #Quote by Felicia Day

#145. As if I'd said I wanted to sell cheese sandwiches outside Grateful
Dead concerts ... #Quote by J.R. Moehringer

#146. You leave a man an invitation like that ... he'd have to be dead to decline. I am definitely not dead. Although rigor has definitely settled into at least one part of my body with a vengeance. #Quote by Sherrilyn Kenyon

#147. It's not easy being a soul helper. 'I know, dear, they can be so demanding those dead ones, but I know you can do it, my little one,' he'd say. Mum helps when she can, but she is always floating here and there and it's hard to catch her. We tried her with a mobile phone, but it requires too much mental exertion for a ghost to hold anything for long, so she kept losing it. In the end, we gave up. #Quote by L.P. Donnelli

#148. One of the things that makes a dead leaf fall to the ground is the bud of the new leaf that pushes it off the limb. #Quote by Jan Karon

#149. Voluntary memory, the memory of the intellect and the eyes, [gives] us only imprecise facsimiles of the past which no more resemble it than pictures by bad painters resemble the spring. ... So we don't believe that life is beautiful because we don't recall it, but if we get a whiff of a long-forgotten smell we are suddenly intoxicated, and similarly we think we no longer love the dead, because we don't remember them, but if by chance we come across an old glove we burst into tears. A #Quote by Alain De Botton

#150. Snapchat Poetry [10w] + {Couplet
On Hellopoetry,
poems are
dead
as soon as
they're read. #Quote by Beryl Dov

#151. I'm tipsy, not blitzed."
Max twisted back and pulled into the road. "What chance I got you won't pass out on the way home?"
I waved my hand in front of me and declared, "Oh, I'll be fine."
"Right," Max muttered.
"Can we listen to music?" I requested and Max turned on the music.
Five minutes later I was dead to the world. #Quote by Kristen Ashley

#152. Ye are better than all the ballads
That ever were sung or said;
For ye are living poems,
And all the rest are dead. #Quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

#153. Taylor and Niall are watching their personal assistant prospects waiting to be interviewed.
"Leave them sitting there until one of them shows some initiative." Niall said.
Ten minutes ticked slowly by.
"I give in," Niall said. "They're all idiots."
Taylor laughed. "I'm intrigued now. How long are they going to sit there?"
"I suspect until they drop dead."
Five more minutes before Taylor heard Niall exhale in frustration, and then the door of the living room flew open and a chicken burst in.
"What the f**k?" Taylor gasped.
"Hi, everyone," the chicken said in a perky voice. "Thank goodness, I'm not too late. I had difficulty getting across the road." She laughed and then sighed when no one else joined in. They sat staring at her in mute shock. #Quote by Barbara Elsborg

#154. And then, if I die anytime soon, at least they'll be able to say that I led a productive life and did all my work on time. I may be dead, but I'll be up to date in Space, Time, and Motion. #Quote by Elizabeth Wurtzel

#155. To explain this Matter, and to wind up Time so that I am returned to my present State: Beside my Church at Limehouse there had antiently been a great Fen or Morass which had been a burying-place of Saxon times, with Graves lined with chalk-stones and beneath them earlier Tombs. Here my work men have found Urns and Ivory Pins once fasten'd to wooden Shrouds, and beside them Ashes and Skulls. This was indeed a massive Necropolis but it has Power still withinne it, for the ancient Dead emit a certain Material Vertue that will come to inhere in the Fabrick of this new Edifice. By day my House of Lime will catch and intangle all those who come near to it; by Night it will be one vast Mound of Shaddowe and Mistinesse, the effect of many Ages before History. And yet I had hot and present Work on hand, for I was in want of the Sacrifice to consecrate this Place: the Observations of Mirabilis upon the Rites, which I explained further back, are pertinent to this Matter; but this onely by the way. #Quote by Peter Ackroyd

#156. I give it a fifty-fifty chance of total failure. If Kai refuses to repay a debt he legitimately owes, he'll be dishonoured in front of his entire Flight. Thunderbirds always avenge their dead, honour their word, and pay their debts. Those seem to be the only laws they have." Based on what little time I'd spent with them.
Marc frowned. "It's the 'legitimately owes' part that worries me."
"Thus the fifty-fifty shot of failure." I stared up at the nest, watching for any sign of activity. "It all depends on whether or not I'm able to bullshit him into thinking he owes us."
"The odds are always in your favour when bullshit's involved." Jace grinned, and I couldn't help returning his smile. #Quote by Rachel Vincent

#157. The short sharp shock of three thousand mother two hundred mothers. The ones who picked through the supermarket debris for pieces of their dead husbands. The ones who still laundered their gone son's bed sheets by hand. The ones who kept an extra teacup at the end of the table, in case of miracles. The elegant ones, the angry ones, the clever ones, the ones in hairnets, the ones exhausted by all the dying. They carried their sorrow - not with photos under their arms, or with public wailing, or by beating their chests, but with a weariness around the eyes. Mothers and daughters and children and grandmothers, too. They never fought the wars, but they suffered them, blood and bone. #Quote by Colum McCann

#158. There's a swell book that's out of print now. Maybe Seven Stories will bring it out again. It's called The Writer and Psychoanalysis by a man who's now dead named Edmund Bergler. He claimed he had treated more writers than anyone else in his field, and being that he practiced in New York, he probably did. Bergler said that writers were fortunate in that they were able to treat their neuroses every day by writing. He also said that as soon as a writer was blocked, this was catastrophic because the writer would start to go to pieces. And so I said in a piece in Harper's, or a letter I wrote to Harper's, about "the death of the novel": People will continue to write novels, or maybe short stories, because they discover that they are treating their own neuroses. And I have said about the practice of the arts that practicing any art - be it painting, music, dance, literature, or whatever - is not a way to make money or become famous. It's a way to make your soul grow. So you should do it anyway. #Quote by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

#159. When I heard that she was dead, I really suffered very little. #Quote by Geoffrey Household

#160. Later that afternoon with the Germans already in Trafalgar Square and advancing down Whitehall to take their position in the rear, the enemy unit advancing across St. James 'Park made their final charge. Several of those in the Downing Street position were already dead... and at last the Bren ceased its chatter, its last magazine emptied.

Churchill reluctantly abandoned the machine-gun, drew his pistol and with great satisfaction, for it was a notoriously inaccurate weapon, shot dead the first German to reach the foot of the steps. As two more rushed forward, covered by a third in the distance, Winston Churchill moved out of the shelter of the sandbags, as if personally to bar the way up Downing Street. A German NCO, running up to find the cause of the unexpected hold-up, recognised him and shouted to the soldiers not to shoot, but he was too late. A burst of bullets from a machine-carbine caught the Prime Minister in the chest. He died instantly, his back to Downing Street, his face toward the enemy, his pistol still in his hand. #Quote by Norman Longmate

#161. They'll get my Kindle when they pry it from my cold dead hands, if my corpse will release it. #Quote by Elizabeth Horton-Newton

#162. Maaya almost couldn't breathe. She had occasionally passed funerals when she dared to step foot outside town, and she had always marveled at the beautiful speeches people had come up with to honor their dead. But she had never felt so overcome, so overwhelmed by a moment as she did now, all from a unanimous honor given without saying a word. Every light was its own star, each sent skyward from someone with the name of a loved one on their lips or in their hearts. The sky glowed so bright that Maaya imagined this was not just a symbol for one world alone to celebrate; it was a message from one world to the next, where millions of flickering lights from every corner of this side of the earth all joined together in one powerful, silent voice to say: We have not forgotten you. #Quote by Kay Solo

#163. Dead! He had known. Of course he had known. #Quote by Alan McCluskey

#164. We are the centuries... We have your eoliths and your mesoliths and your neoliths. We have your Babylons and your Pompeiis, your Caesars and your chromium-plated (vital-ingredient impregnated) artifacts. We have your bloody hatchets and your Hiroshimas. We march in spite of Hell, we do – Atrophy, Entropy, and Proteus vulgaris, telling bawdy jokes about a farm girl name of Eve and a traveling salesman called Lucifer. We bury your dead and their reputations. We bury you. We are the centuries. Be born then, gasp wind, screech at the surgeon's slap, seek manhood, taste a little godhood, feel pain, give birth, struggle a little while, succumb: (Dying, leave quietly by the rear exit, please.) Generation, regeneration, again, again, as in a ritual, with blood-stained vestments and nail-torn hands, children of Merlin, chasing a gleam. Children, too, of Eve, forever building Edens – and kicking them apart in berserk fury because somehow it isn't the same. (AGH! AGH! AGH! – an idiot screams his mindless anguish amid the rubble. But quickly! let it be inundated by the choir, chanting Alleluias at ninety decibels.) #Quote by Walter M. Miller Jr.

#165. But Siegfried held up a restraining hand. "Just one moment," he slurred. "The windscreen is very dirty. I'll give it a rub for you." The ladies watched him silently as he weaved round to the back of the car and began to rummage in the boot. The love light had died from their eyes. I don't know why he took the trouble; possibly it was because, through the whisky mists, he felt he must re-establish himself as a competent and helpful member of the party. But the effort fell flat; the effect was entirely spoiled. He was polishing the glass with a dead hen. #Quote by James Herriot

#166. At the best, sarcasms, bitter irony, scathing wit, are a sort of swordplay of the mind. You pink your adversary, and he is forthwith dead; and then you deserve to be hung for it. #Quote by Christian Nestell Bovee

#167. What was to be the value of the long looked forward to,
Long hoped for calm, the autumnal serenity
And the wisdom of age? Had they deceived us
Or deceived themselves, the quiet-voiced elders,
Bequeathing us merely a receipt for deceit?
The serenity only a deliberate hebetude,
The wisdom only the knowledge of dead secrets
Useless in the darkness into which they peered
Or from which they turned their eyes. There is, it seems to us,
At best, only a limited value
In the knowledge derived from experience.
The knowledge imposes a pattern, and falsifies,
For the pattern is new in every moment
And every moment is a new and shocking
Valuation of all we have been. We are only undeceived
Of that which, deceiving, could no longer harm. #Quote by T. S. Eliot

#168. There is no virtue in being uncritical; nor is it a habit to which the young are given. But criticism is only the burying beetle that gets rid of what is dead, and, since the world lives by creative and constructive forces, and not by negation and destruction, it is better to grow up in the company of prophets than of critics. #Quote by Richard Livingstone

#169. Sometimes I wonder if he wasn't born dead. I never met a man who was less interested in the living. Sometimes I think that's the trouble with the world: too many people in high places who are stone-cold dead. #Quote by Kurt Vonnegut

#170. A few performances have been left out of the various Woodstock soundtracks and film edits over the years, most notably The Grateful Dead. #Quote by Shawn Amos

#171. Though films become more daring sexually, they are probably less sexy than they ever were. There haven't been any convincing love scenes or romances in the movies in a while. (Nobody even seems to neck in theaters any more.) ... when the mechanics and sadism quotients go up, the movie love interest goes dead, and the film just lies there, giving a certain amount of offense. #Quote by Renata Adler

#172. The day you stop dreaming you might as well take yourself down to the undertaker's, for you're as good as dead. #Quote by Jennifer Donnelly

#173. If you work and do pure research in this industry as long as I have – and you actually pay attention and do your homework, then this naked and raw truth stands out -> The supplement world of cancer-fighters, CAD-preventers, health-promoters, magic-water – AND/OR - muscle-builders, fat-burners and weight-loss agents – all of them – already have an over-crowded mass grave-yard of previous magic bullets that would supposedly make your life and/or body better – Yes, so promising and heavily promoted "this" era – but so dead and gone the next – leaving in their wake a trail of mass-consumer confusion – but also leaving their actual intention -> a new generation of passive consumers – those who can't differentiate the sizzle from the steak. Or as W.C. Fields put it so long ago – "There's a sucker born every minute." -> There isn't a supplement on the planet that marks the difference between 'health or ill-health' – or between 'fit or fat.' - or between 'results and stagnation. #Quote by Scott Abel

#174. You're kind of blind, you know?" Puck whispered, smiling to soften his words. "I wouldn't defy Oberon for just anyone. But, for you ... " He leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine. "I'd come back from the dead for you. #Quote by Julie Kagawa

#175. Loneliness is necessary for pure poetry. When someone intrudes into the poet's life (and any sudden personal contact, whether in the bed or in the heart, is an intrusion) the poet loses his or her balance for a moment, slips into being what he or she is, uses his or her poetry as one would use money or sympathy. The person who writes the poetry emerges, tentatively, like a hermit crab from a conch shell. The poet, for that instant, ceases to be a dead person. #Quote by Jack Spicer

#176. The ethics of sex is a thorny problem. Each of us is forced to grope for a solution he can live with - in the face of preposterous, unworkable, and evil code of so-called 'Morals.' Most of us know the code is wrong, almost everybody breaks it. But we pay Danegeld by feeling guilty and giving lip service. Willy-nilly, the code rides us, dead and stinking, an albatross around the neck. #Quote by Robert A. Heinlein

#177. I am Dead, but it's not so bad. I've learned to live with it. #Quote by Isaac Marion

#178. Through the forest he pursued the she-monster whose tail coiled over the dead leaves like a silver stream; and he came to a meadow where women, with the hindquarters of dragons, stood around a great fire, raised on the tips of their tails. The moon shone red as blood in a pale circle and their scarlet tongues, formed like fishing harpoons, stretched out, curling to the edge of the flame. #Quote by Gustave Flaubert

#179. California is the most reactionary state in America. Fascist sentiments are very strong here. #Quote by Ilya Ilf

#180. What do the stars believe in, Zainab? Where do the dead horses go, what do the birds worship, and what do the rivers live for? #Quote by Rawi Hage

#181. Only a matter of time before you wind up dead. Given what and who #Quote by Kaylea Cross

#182. Almost all the wall posts, which arrived
nearly as fast as I could read them, were written by people I'd never met and whom he'd never
spoken about, people who were extolling his various virtues now that he was dead, even
though I knew for a fact they hadn't seen him in months and had made no effort to visit him. #Quote by John Green

#183. The wisdom that is from above, is not only pure, but also peaceable and gentle; and the lack of these qualifications, like the dead fly in the jar of ointment, will spoil the fragrance and efficacy of our labors. If we act in a wrong spirit - we shall bring little glory to God; do little good to our fellow creatures; and procure neither honor nor comfort to ourselves! If you can be content with showing your wit, and gaining the laugh on your side - you have an easy task! #Quote by John Newton

#184. See, the problem in this world ain't sinners, or even the dead. It is men who will step on anyone who stands in the way of their pursuit of power. Luckily there will always be people like me to stop them #Quote by Justina Ireland

#185. Our love for the dead, like a floating iceberg, can only be measured by the depths of our resentments. #Quote by Rosario Ferre

#186. Despite men's suffering, despite the blood and wrath, despite the dead who can never be replaced, the unjust wounds, and the wild bullets, we must utter, not words of regret, but words of hope, of the dreadful hope of men isolated with their fate. #Quote by Albert Camus

#187. One of the most marvelous things I experienced was that you hold another one's hand in your hand, you feel the pulse, then it becomes slower and slower, then that's it. It's something enormous. Then you still hold that hand, then the nurse comes in, bringing with her the number for the corpse. The nurse wheels her out once more and says: "Come back later." Then you are immediately confronted with life again. You calmly get up and put things in order; in the meantime the nurse comes back and attaches the number to the corpse, you empty the bedside cabinet, the nurse says: "Don't forget the yogurt, you have to take it too." Outside you hear the crows -- it's like a theatrical play.

Then the bad conscience comes. A dead person leaves you with an immense guilt. #Quote by Thomas Bernhard

#188. The M.E. dissected pieces of a corpse to tell a story, while Drayco tried to bring them back from the dead, jagged piece by jagged piece. #Quote by B.V. Lawson

#189. Possibility is not a facet of opportunity. It's one of fate. And I've never been one to fear destiny. #Quote by Rebecca Harris

#190. During the night she had told me, 'I feel old. I miss being young.' She curled her arms over her chest, looking already like all the dead Papillons I hade seen littering the grass beneath the sycamores on campus. Unlike any of the other Papillons, though, she was in my apartment, curled in my lap. I missed being young too. Only I had thousands of days to go. #Quote by Maggie Stiefvater

#191. If you don't believe in any kind of magic, or mystery, basically, (you're) as good as dead #Quote by Before Sunset (supposedly Albert Einstein)

#192. Hazel saw Leo, unconscious - or dead - falling through the clouds. #Quote by Rick Riordan

#193. I am endeavoring to steer gymnastics out of a dead end that satisfies only a handful of short-sighted individuals with nostalgia for an era gone by. #Quote by Bruno Grandi

#194. Society, dead or alive, can have no charm without intimacy and no intimacy without an interest in trifles. #Quote by Arthur Balfour

#195. We have explicit expectations of ourselves in specific situations–beyond expectations; they are requirements. Some of these are small: If we are given a surprise party, we will be delighted. Others are sizable: if a parent dies, we will be grief-stricken. But perhaps in tandem with these expectations is the private fear that we will fail convention in the crunch. That we will receive the fateful phone call and our mother is dead and we feel nothing. I wonder if this quiet, unutterable little fear is even keener than the fear of the bad news itself: that we will discover ourselves to be monstrous. #Quote by Lionel Shriver

#196. I have so much empathy for these young actors that are 19 and all of a sudden they're beautiful and famous and rich. I'm like, 'Oh my God, I'd be dead.' #Quote by Philip Seymour Hoffman

#197. On A Cold Day, Of A Cold Walking

The day is cold, but clouds are gray.
The grass is white with frost, and may I say?
The sun is coming up, over the hill.
It's so quiet, and so steal.
In the midst of all the trees, by the broke I see.
Something moving in the bush; what could it be?
The frost falls from the dead leaves, as he hops about in the breeze.
It's a bunny, all bundled up with fur, so he will not freeze.
Life keeps on going, even when we think not.
Where are you going, and what is your lot?
Looking for God's Love, from up above?
Jesus will fly to you, like a dove.
He is there; just start talking.
On a cold day, of I called walking. #Quote by Jerrel C. Thomas

#198. Along the way, he followed his own advice and snagged a pair of mismatched daggers from the corpses of fallen archers. They weren't as well-made as the ones he'd taken from the dead rogue, but they had pointy ends he could stab into people and that was really all that mattered in a dagger. #Quote by Drew Hayes

#199. I think that's the great thing about zombies, is, you know, going back to even 'Night of the Living Dead,' they've always been a tool for kind of holding up a mirror to us and showing us something about ourselves that we might not otherwise know. #Quote by Jonathan Levine

#200. For I say to you in all the sadness of conviction, that to think great thoughts you must be heroes as well as idealists. Only when you have worked alone – when you have felt around you a black gulf of solitude more isolating than that which surrounds the dying man, and in hope and in despair have trusted to your own unshaken will – then only will you have achieved. Thus only can you gain the secret isolated joy of the thinker, who knows that, a hundred years after he is dead and forgotten, men who have never heard of him will be moving to the measure of his thought – the subtle rapture of a postponed power, which the world knows not because it has no external trappings, but which to his prophetic vision is more real than that which commands an army. #Quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.